


UPSILON

by VernacularVirgoVerbatum



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adventure, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gen, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Probably quite a few inconsistencies, Quadrant romance will be explored, Reader Insert, Reader is not a Mary Sue, Reader plays SBURB, Reader-Interactive, Updates slower than regular Homestuck, author thinks they have a sense of humor, first fanfic, flame on, flames are my motivation, puns, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VernacularVirgoVerbatum/pseuds/VernacularVirgoVerbatum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are the last survivor of the human race left on Earth. The planet is desolate and the only way off this dying rock is to get your hands on a copy of a fabled RPG that grants its users godlike powers. With the help of some mysterious chat personas and a shit ton of clowning around, assorted animal noises, and fish puns you might just succeed.</p><p>And if you do... The end is only just beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Waking Up at the Start of the End of the World and it Kind of Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only putting the disclaimer up this once because hella duh. You're here; you know. I own nothing but the plot. Hussie owns Homestuck and you own you(hopefully). Also there will definitely be swearing just FYI.

Bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-beep! Bee-be-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Apparently living on your own was a bit harder than you expected. "Shit, damn it, this is why I should've used the micro- oh my god please stop beeping." 

Over the past couple months you had made a habit of talking to yourself because you were lonely. Everyone else was dead after all. Armaggedon's kind of a bitch that way; decimating the human race but leaving you behind in the aftermath. Of course it couldn't have been a cool steampunk post apocalypse full of mutant space wizards or zombies. No. It was boring. Boring as all fuck without the sex. 

Of course you had cried like a baby at first and sat around your house in a depressed stupor tinged with survivors guilt and a hint of I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on-am-I-going-to-die? scared shitlessness. But then you decided enough was enough and acting like Bella Swan was not going to help anything. So you went to the store and loaded a cartfull of assorted goodies into a super cool stolen minivan with stick figure family decals. That car was the shit. You drove back to your home that was definitely in the direction of the setting sun because you're just that badass.

Which brings us to your present situation of burning down your house. Well, your kitchen. Okay, maybe just the oven? Fine, the cake. You scrambled to whip it out of the oven and managed to burn your thumb and drop the hot cake on your foot. Ouch. The cake was distainfully yet regrettably thrown out the window. You half hopped, half limped to the bathroom and probably created a new dance move in the process. After you finished dressing your battle wounds you got up to toss yourself onto your bed. You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. This never would have happened to your parents. You smiled and let out a half hearted chuckle and rolled onto your stomach. Almost imperceptibly your shoulders shook and your breath stuttered and hitched itself in your throat. You missed your family, you missed your friends, you even missed the crazy old man who collected parrots that lived down the street. Mostly you missed the familiarity of their voices, their mannerisms, their quirks. You'd never been alone this long. You'd never really been alone ever. Wherever you went there were always people and the hum of their voices. Now it was just silent. And you hated it. 

 

You fell into a restless sleep full of strange dreams about parrots and fire breathing cakes that ate people and texted with ridiculous typing quirks while chiming your phones ringtone. When you woke up you could still hear the upbeat jingle and wondered groggily who could be texting you. Then reality snapped its cruel jaws back into your brain and you jolted out of bed, tripping out of frantic scrambling to reach the phone. Four unread messages hover on the lockscreen.

Blocked Caller: "Hello" 

Blocked Caller: "Hey" 

Blocked Caller: "Human" 

Blocked Caller: "Wake up"


	2. Free Groceries Aren't as Great When Everyone's Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of background info to set up the next chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only updating so y'all don't assume I'm dead

To say the least you were having a very strange day. You had started with an unhealthy, sugar saturated shop lifting heist at an abandoned grocery store that altogether ended up leaving you with first degree burns on your foot. Then you cried yourself to sleep. Then you dreamed some really whacky dreams comparable to an acid trip. And finally you woke up to loud, buzzing chimes from a phone you had been considering throwing out because of its apocalyptic obsolescence. (What had stopped you before was not being able to get past level 153 of candy crush. As exciting as that quest was it was also equally motherfucking boring and pointless as all hell.)

Now here you were and you were pretty damn shocked to say the least. You'd thought everyone was dead. After all none of the news channels were working and the Internet was down. Plus you hadn't seen a living person-or even a cadaver-since you blacked out. Which was another strange occurrence that ought to be added to your ever growing list of shitty things that had happened to you as of late. 

You weren't sure why you had blacked out. It came about rather unexplainably when you were outside on a casual stroll through the neighborhood. Your eyes had been stuck on a small pebble that you kept kicking in front of you. Kick, step, kick, step when suddenly you heard a very loud, explody sort of noise coming from one of your neighbor's backyard. You snapped your head up at the sound and your heart skipped a beat. Then you heard another, equally loud, crashing, clattering crunch behind you on the paved road. You turned around and were met by the sight of something quite odd. It was a rock.

Although to be technically correct it was a meteorite, about an arms length across and half as wide embedded deep into the street. It would have been the coolest thing you'd ever seen or encountered and definitely would've made a really great snapstory on Instagram post. Unfortunately before you could whip out your phone and do something really basic the universe seemed to have other plans. You heard the wind whistle from above you and just before you turned around you blacked out. 

When you finally came to you were still lying on the pavement. Your body sat sprawled across the concrete and your everything was sore or scraped. You felt like you'd been pelted by golf balls launched at 100 miles an hour all over your body. You moved to sit up which sent a wave of pain through your head and you reached up to touch it. When you pulled your hand away it was sticky with some sort of hot, red liquid. It took you a moment to realize it was blood. Then you fainted, again.

The next time you woke up you found yourself in a much more comfortable position than the first. You were propped up in your own bed on a mound of pillows. You discovered a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand beside you and carefully sat up to take a couple, muscles protesting all the while. You took the medicine and drained your cup. Upon further inspection of your surroundings-which were for the most part exactly as you had left it before you left on your little excursion-you found the room to be noticeably neater and thoroughly picked up. You thought to yourself that it was awfully nice of whichever family member had done so and resolved to thank them once you got up. For some reason the thought of your family made you uneasy. Of course you hadn't a clue why but still there was a nagging feeling of apprehension in the pit of your stomach.

You got up quickly with that strange feeling gnawing at you and checked the kitchen. Nobody was there. But that was alright, they were probably just watching a movie in the living room. Nobody was there either. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest but tried to steady your breathing. You were overreacting on a dumb suspicion, there was no reason to be worried! After calming down a bit you realized that you could just call your family. Yes, that would surely ease your mind. So you did and still nobody picked up. You called each member of your family at least a dozen times and left several voicemails and texts. Each time you did your heart sank lower and lower as your mind raced, envisioning all the horrible things that could have happened to them. It wasn't until hours later and the sky was black and full of stars that you left your vigil at the front door, giving up on hopelessly hoping they would come home. 

It was your current predicament that reminded you of the incident, which at the time you were too shocked to process properly. You had no idea who had sent you those messages but you had a feeling that whoever they were must be involved with everyone disappearing. You couldn't say you were scared, although normally you would be, in fact you felt quite the opposite. You were excited. Someone was out there that was very much alive and you were determined to find them no matter what.

You replied to the mystery number with a short and easy to answer, "Hello, who are you? Where are you? How did you find my number? Why are you only contacting me just now and what the hell is going on with the world?"

All you could do now was wait. And with all the waiting you'd done lately you had gotten awfully good at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in so long, but I did warn you so don't get your bulgebags in a twist. (But seriously thanks for reading and kudoing and commenting, I honestly expected this to disappear into the void)


	3. Nokias and Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Background and setting stuff. You're already on the 3rd chapter so you know the deal.

???, ???, Paradox Space

In a circus there are clowns that juggle, contortionists that twist, and magicians that cut people in half. In a circus the magicians can put their victims back together again, it's only part of an act after all. In a circus the clowns do not usually double as contortionists. In the circus that was Paradox Space, such was not the case.

The highblooded clown found himself doing the contortionists act locked in a cold, cramped, lightless box. He shared what little space he had with assorted bottles of troll blood and an off colored greenish something that slowly grew bigger over time. The young troll, although usually quite lackadaisical and unobservant, had begun to notice a putrid odor being exhumed from the bloody bottles. The stench was nauseating and only became more potent with the passing of time.

Gamzee could not say how long he had been kept locked in this prison but it was long enough to have lost all feeling in his legs. He slowly tried shifting his limbs but let out a pitiful whimper as hot, screaming shots of pain sang through his right calf. It was broken and had begun to set at a sickening angle. He knew that if he didn't straighten it back out his rapid healing would make it nearly impossible to fix. He would walk with a limp or have to amputate his leg- Kanaya could do it, and then Equius would make him a new leg like he did for Tavros, no problem. Where were they anyways? All he could remember was Vriska pushing him into the dark, a disgusting sneer smeared across her face. Gamzee had always been wary of her and his distrust morphed into terror after she hurt Tav. His fear of her only worsened. He called for help, softly, weak from blood loss and starvation, he keened and cried and begged. But nobody came. He needed a miracle. 

He reached into his modus and pulled out a phone. There was a number already dialed into it that he didn't recognize and not wanting to question the will of the messiahs he sent it a message, praying for another miracle.

\---

Austin, Texas, Dreambubble Earth

Dave Strider hated the color orange. Orange skylines, orange smuppets, orange eyes, orange, orange, orange. Nothing even rhymed with orange. He also hated crows. Squawking, screaming, shitting-on-you crows. So now he hated himself, a big, ugly, orange bird that was no longer Dave Strider. He was 'Davesprite,' the original Alpha Dave made excess. 

Honestly now that all his friends had the trolls and the Alpha kids they didn't need him. It was ironic, actually, that he sacrificed his humanity to become a Sprite so he could be useful and he quickly became a throwaway prop in this stupid universe's stupid production. Even making up pseudo ironic jokes wasn't fun for him anymore. That was the 'real' Dave's thing. Fuck that Dave. What did he know about anything? Nothing. Did he have to watch his friends die? No. Did he get cast out of the group he thought loved him? No! No, he didn't. Whatever.

The thing about being a sprite was that the game had programmed him a purpose. It rewired his brain to feel the need to help his player. It was like the innate compass that birds used to migrate. It's ever present pull had been a comforting distraction from the unparalleled trauma he had experienced. Without that direction he easily became lost in a hazy, overcast gloom of despair and self loathing, constantly replaying the memories of the final moments he had with his friends. If he hadn't been messing around with Terezi and her stupid boonbucks goose chase and been taking his duty as Knight of Time seriously, his John, his Jade, and his Rose would still be alive.

He idly began fiddling with his turntables when he heard a tap-tap-tapping at his window. Davesprite looked up and found himself eye to eye with a large, black crow. He grimaced and felt the feathers on the back of his neck puff up. 

Davesprite glared at the crow and floated over to the window. Readying himself for a conflict, he opened his strife specibus and pulled out his broken katana. Swiftly he flipped the window open and swiped at the crow. The crow was too quick and deftly swooped through the window, making its perch on the bedframe. 

"I'm going to fluff your shit up you little motherclucker--fucker, motherfucker. Fuck-Shit, " he fluttered, "ah, screw it," and dove at the bird.

The crow was too quick and let out a croaky cawaah-caw as it made its escape through the window. Davesprite started after it when a faint glimmer caught his eye. On the corner of his bed was a dated, Nokia flip phone. 

He picked it up to inspect it and found it had a message typed and ready to send to an unfamiliar number. He regarded the phone for a moment, considering what he should do with it. Hesitating a moment more, he pressed send. A strange feeling settled in his gut, uncomfortable and gnawing, as if destiny herself had cooked him up a questionable burrito of fate. That or he was really hungry, but he hadn't needed to eat since he became a sprite.

 

\-----

Throneroom, Castle Black, Derse

Her Imperious Condescension sat proudly upon her new throne. The golden ring she broke from the former carpacian queen's finger glittered upon her finger. She smiled toothily. It felt good to be a badass bitch.

Her gaze swept over the broken bodies of the carpacians who had dared oppose her. They were stupid to do so. They should have known she was too great a match for them, not that she felt much remorse for their deaths. It was pitiable really, how weak their species was. Trolls were much stronger, even the lowest of the blood castes would have put up a better fight. 

A strange feeling of nostalgia washed over her. She remembered a time more than a millennia ago when trolls dominated the heavens. Her elite armies used to ravage the skies, conquering and colonizing planet after planet. That was before the vast glub. Before her lusus killed them all.

The smile had disappeared from her face, replaced by a tight grimace. She couldn't stop her people's genocide, she couldn't even save her flushmate. What was the use of unlimited godly power without an empire to rule and a lover to stand beside you?

She had tried to enforce her people's ways onto the humans of Earth. She changed the color of their blood to match the hemospectral caste system unsuccessfully. The chemicals required killed the humans. She bred lusus using ectobiology and forced the humans to reproduce using the bucket system. However, crude system she had constructed to replace the complex biology of a Mother Grub produced no offspring.

A faint clatter roused her from her thoughts. She walked over to the source of the noise and found a small telecommunication device. The Condesce plucked it up and inspected it. The screen was dim but she could clearly see that it was open to a chatlog with an unfamiliar user. At the top of the log was an unmistakable depiction of a Matriorb. It couldn't be a coincidence, the timing was just too perfect. She immediately typed in a message and pressed send. Then she waited, an unfamiliar lightness settling upon her breast. For the first time in centuries she felt hope.

\-----

Your House, ???, ???

PM had been chasing after Jack for months. Jack had no honor. No dedication. No sense of the importance of liberty, reason, justice, civility, edification, or perfection. He was a lawless assmunch and PM hated him with a fervent passion. She was going to destroy the handsome devil if it was the last thing she did. 

Her single minded determination had fueled her during their fight and left her with a tunneled vision on Jack Noir. Which is why she was caught off guard when an asteroid hurtled into her, knocking her unconscious. 

She awoke later sprawled out on top of a squishy, breathing mass. Wait, breathing?

PM got up quickly and straightened her wing, ears pricked as she inspected the thing in front of her. From the looks of it, it was human, and somewhat badly injured. She picked it up gingerly as to not hurt it any further. A wave of guilt washed over her. By the looks of it she must have squashed the poor human, and was to blame for its current condition. 

Looking around she spotted a house and carried the human over to it. Using as much care as she would have with the most delicate package, PM opened the door to the house and went inside. She found a bed to place the human in and tucked it in. PM then went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. She wondered briefly why she was going to all this trouble for a stranger when she ought to be going after Jack. Then she heard a faint whimper from the bedroom and hurried to procure some medicine for her new charge.

After she set the water and medicine next to the human she went back into the kitchen to wait for them to wake up. She took a seat at the table and pondered her current situation. Jack Noir was nowhere to be found and she had no idea how far she had travelled before landing on this rock. It troubled her to no end that her prey had escaped her grasp because of her carelessness. 

She let out a low growl when a something small and hard pelted her in the back of the head. PM yelped and whipped around to look at the offending object. It was a small communication device with a number and message predialed into it. Curiousity getting the better of her she pressed send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back. Sorry I pulled a Hussie on ya, but I did warn you this would happen. ;)
> 
> As always, criticism is welcome

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt so I appreciate flames. And don't get your hopes up about updates. I'm sorry but I will be able to say I gave you a fair warning okay? Ok, cool
> 
> Also there are older versions of this on Deviant Art and Wattpad but both of them are trash so yeah. Please don't ever read those. You've been warned.


End file.
